


It's The Little Things

by moonwalkingdead



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1954200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonwalkingdead/pseuds/moonwalkingdead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just touching. He can't imagine that this intimacy can just be summed up with two words that mean absolutely nothing. AUish. Implied Bethyl. NOW WITH A MULTICHAPTERED SEQUEL, Reverse Phoenix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's The Little Things

He dislikes all that physical intimacy shit, always have. Growing up in a household that taught him to shun physical affection unless it's a fist connecting with a vital body part, and it's really not surprising why he despises it so much.

_But her._

She crosses it so fucking easily, _distance_ , as if the inches of air between them are nothing more but _just_ space. It's more than that to him, and the emptiness that separates his limbs from her own, he leaves it there for a reason. 

Because it's always been 'get as far away as you can from Daryl _fucking_ Dixon unless this is a fist fight'. But she doesn't get that at all, doesn't know how _not to_ invade personal spaces.

And he wonders at times, when he finds himself trapped in another one of her many hand holds or warm hugs, if all this skin to skin contact even means _anything_ to her anymore.

_If it even should._

"Ya so damn clingy, ya know that?"

It's mostly dark in the room now, the candles already starting to burn low. It's been hours since they found this funeral home and it's the safest they've been in days, but they're still awake. 

Because sleep is no longer easy, not after the fall of the prison. 

He glances at her where they are on the carpeted floor, him on his back and her sideways and facing him as she shifts beside him and moves closer.

_Always closer._

She tightens the arm she has around his, burying her nose on his sleeve as he squirms in discomfort. But he doesn't move away because she'll just move with him, and there's only so much of the floor he can take before he runs out of escape space.

"Sorry," she mumbles on his shirt, and in the dark he can see that she's looking back at him, blue eyes piercing nearly the same blue. "I'm used to this and after everything..." she trails off but she doesn't have to say anything else. 

They don't really talk about what, _who_ they've lost.

He shifts too, turning away from her pleading, apologetic gaze to look at the ceiling instead. It takes a while, but eventually he speaks because the silence is too sad to be left undisturbed.

"Well I ain't." He says gruffly, not looking at her when he feels her stare focusing on him, _just him_. "Never cuddled with no one before, it's gay is what it is." He adds in a mutter, a little bit of disgust coloring his tone. 

She giggles in response to his words. 

"Daryl!" she exclaims, burying her face on his shoulder to muffle her laughter before pulling back with a grin. "It's not gay! And even if you cuddled, it's not gonna look gay at all."

He scoffs then, adjusting the hand he has behind his head as he rolls his eyes. "Sure is," he grumbles. "Ya imagine Rick an' I like this? Or Glenn? Maybe Tyreese?" He chances a glance at her with a brow raised and finds her nose wrinkled in thought. 

"Well..."

He smirks at her triumphantly and settles back, a little more comfortably. "Like I said girl. 'S gay an' shit."

She huffs at him then, her hold on him loosening slightly. She thumps him on the chest. "It's not dependin' on how you look at it. It's _just_ touchin'." 

And Daryl frowns and turns to her with narrowed eyes at her words, something in his gut doing an unpleasant little flip.

_Just touching._

His hard gaze makes her scrunch up her face in question. "What?" she asks warily, and he's sure she can feel how tense he has become, reacting to it by beginning to shy away. His entire body is ready to move away too, _far away_ , because if _that_ is what _this_ has been all along... 

Then fuck. _He doesn't need it._

"'S that what all this is?" he asks, almost glaring at her now as he shrugs their intertwined arms to emphasize what he's talking about. "All this shit, it's _just touchin'_?"

She looks confused as she nods, if a little hesitantly. "Y-yes. I mean, what else should it be?" And the way she looks so clueless pisses him off that he pushes himself away from her half embrace, because he can't imagine that this... _this intimacy_ can just be summed up in two words that mean absolutely _nothing._

He's across the room in a heartbeat, back against the wall with his eyes on the carpet before she can even ask what the matter is. 

"I ain't here for your convenience," he growls, hearing her getting up from the floor herself but refusing to look at her. "Ya wanna _just touch_ then go get yaself a Walker 'cause I ain't having any of this no more."

Her voice is dripping with _huh_ when she answers him. " _What?_ What are you talkin' about?" 

He looks up at her and glares for a long time, but she only looks back waiting. So he talks, like back in the cabin when they fought and he broke down. Because he wants her to know, wants her to realize that _this isn't nothing_ at all.

"This touchin' shit that ya do," he begins, the sudden understanding in his eyes making him angrier than ever. "Ya don't allow people to just do it if it don't mean nothin'!"

"Daryl-"

He doesn't let her cut him off. "Good for ya if ya been hugged too damn much all ya life, but it ain't like that for everybody!" His voice is loud now, his fists hitting the floor every other few words. "So it's not just anythin'!"

He turns away. 

"An' I ain't here for your convenience!" He repeats with a final hit on the floor, and he feels like he hasn't expressed himself properly but he can't say anything more. 

He deflates, like some poor car tire ready for replacing and suddenly he has this urge to run. Because when he finally gathers the courage to look at Beth again, he can see that she _understands_.

She always does.

"That's not what I meant Daryl," she begins slowly, not moving to close the distance between them. Not yet at least, and he scoffs at her angrily. "Really? Then what the hell did'ja mean?" He snaps.

She finally crawls towards him, and he lets her - even as she settles herself between his legs, kneels before him to tentatively run her hands from his jaw to his cheeks. 

And for the life of him, suddenly it's so fucking hard to breathe.

"This is _just touchin'_ Daryl," she starts, her eyes following the progress of her own hands as they move from his cheek to lightly grip his hair. "But I didn't say anythin' about it meaning _nothin'_."

He just stares at her face and waits, and he finds that he's not angry anymore. 

Beth continues, hands still moving. She strokes his head, fingers delving through strands of grimy, oily hair as if she's petting him. "This is me soothin' you." 

Her hands move again, this time to yank his tresses downward hard. He groans in pain, and she grins a little at his answering glare. "And that's me teasin'."

Still her hands roam, to fall on his shoulders where she squeezes him firmly. "This is me reassurin' you, like a show of support."

She gazes at a lone hand that she settles on his arm where she squeezes again. "And this can be me tellin' you without words that I'm glad you're here with me."

That same hand ventures lower, and like earlier in front of that tombstone, she holds his hand, entwines their fingers. "This is me lettin' you know that I'm here. That we're in whatever thing we're in _together_ , like a team."

She keeps their hands together as her free one finds his cheek again, cradling it. "And this, it's just me touchin' you and it doesn't mean anythin' to me really, but I just wanna be affectionate to you."

Beth finally meets his eyes, and they're so blue and open, _honest,_ that he believes her.

He sinks into her arms as she embraces him, face buried on her neck as he breathes her in, and allows himself to hug her back. 

"M'sorry." He mumbles, his words muffled by her skin as she hugs him tighter. He feels her lips on his temple, a kiss that stays there even as she replies.

"I know. It's okay." She doesn't pull away, and he doesn't want her to. "You're not here for anybody's convenience but yours, Daryl."

That night, he sleeps in the little space around Beth's arms, his nose on her collarbone, and he can't help but think that this is the best place he has ever been.

And the next day at breakfast, when Daryl picks up Beth from the ground after she declares that the hobbling she's doing is the fastest she can, it's him just touching her but.

It's also him telling her _I got ya._

And when her eyes meet his and she beams at him, he knows she gets it, gets him.

She always does.


End file.
